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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27067435">Clextober Week 2020 Tumblr Prompts</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneJane/pseuds/HurricaneJane'>HurricaneJane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quality Ingredients One Shots [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Clextober, Clextober 2020, F/F, prompts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:10:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27067435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HurricaneJane/pseuds/HurricaneJane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>All of the one shots for QI done for Clextober Week 2020</p>
<p>Day 1: Pumpkin Spice &amp; Everything Nice<br/>Day2: Witches &amp; Wishes<br/>Day 3: Sweater Weather<br/>Day 4: This shit is HAUNTED!<br/>Day 5: Creatures of the Night<br/>Day 6: Trick or Treat<br/>Day 7: Free Day</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clarke Griffin &amp; Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quality Ingredients One Shots [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>210</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Day 1 Prompt: Pumpkin Spice &amp; Everything Nice</p>
  <p>Takes place in October in the Quality Ingredients universe.</p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Hey Murph! Pumpkinhead kicked! Can you run downstairs and change it?” Harper called over her shoulder from the taps.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“On it,” Murphy sighed and disappeared out back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Clarke, you know the rules.  You kick it, you win it,” Harper smiled and handed Clarke a pint glass holding a few small sips topped with the sad foam of defeat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I never look a gift beer in the face,” Clarke grinned.  She was sitting at the bar by herself on a moderately busy October Monday afternoon waiting for Lexa to finish up for the day.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And that’s one of the many things I appreciate about you,” Harper chuckled.  “You just getting out of work?” Harper gestured at Clarke’s AMH hoodie, scrubs and the bags under her eyes.  She had the signature slump of standing for too many hours when she melted onto the bar stool.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thankfully,” Clarke rubbed her temples.  “Lexa had something going on at Woods Financial today, but she’s coming by when she’s done.  I haven’t heard from her in a few hours, though.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, speak of the devil,” Harper smiled as Lexa walked through the door to the bar dressed in a black suit and beige trench coat. She pulled her sunglasses off and tucked them inside her jacket.  The tailoring made her legs look a mile long.  The afternoon sun caught on her watch and long flowing curls though the bar windows.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t really care if you think it’s a good idea.  I know it’s a bad one and I’m the one who signs your fucking checks,” Lexa said firmly into her phone as she approached.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And it appears the devil wears Prada,” Harper smirked. Clarke said nothing. Could say nothing.  The image of Lexa before her in full black-tie professional snatched her breath.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s Dolce,” Lexa mouthed at Harper with a wink.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Clarke took a deep breath in slowly and tried to contain her lusty grin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Roma, if I’ve told you once, then I’ve told you a thousand times.  There will be absolutely no rebrand or deviation from the menu without my in-person review or a second opinion I trust. I have too much on my plate right now to fly Indra out, so I need you to put your garbage attitude on ice until I’m there in December,” Lexa fired off quickly.  She caught Clarke’s eye and mouthed ‘I’m so sorry’ before taking a step back and posturing a power stance to carry on.  “I don’t give a shit what Cece told you I told her.  I’m telling you NO.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sup, Woods?” Octavia looked up from the end of the bar where she was doing paperwork.  Lexa returned the same nod of respect but stayed on the phone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Listen, you’ve taken up way more of my time with this than I should have let you.  Your ideas are good, but you know my rules and you always have.  Table this, put it aside, and we can discuss it in person later in the year,” Lexa sighed.  “And you tell your bartender to knock off the pumpkin spice whiskey cocktails bullshit.  That’s off brand and I don’t like it.  Are we done here? I’m late for my next engagement.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You want a glass of ice water?” Harper raised a knowing brow at Clarke.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Make it a pitcher,” Clarke muttered and sarcastically fanned herself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Clarke, hi, I’m so sorry,” Lexa put her phone in her pocket and leaned in for a kiss.  “My head chef in Los Angeles is driving me fucking nuts this week.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No apology necessary,” Clarke’s grin widened. “You look incredible! Where have you been all dressed up like this?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I just had a work thing,” Lexa waved it off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Here you go, Clarke,” Harper put a full glass of beer in front of Clarke.  “Chef Woods, you’re looking lovely today.  Get you a drink?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you, Harper.  Did you get your hair cut?” Lexa asked as she hung up her coat and took up the seat beside Clarke.  Clarke instantly slid an affectionate hand onto Lexa’s designer clad thigh.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I did, thank you for noticing,” Harper smiled, poised at the taps with an empty glass.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What are you having? I can just have that,” Lexa pointed at Clarke’s beer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s a Pumpkinhead,” Harper replied as she reached for the tap.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, wait, I’m so sorry,” Lexa jumped in.  “No thank you.  I’ll have something else.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No pumpkin beer for you?” Clarke asked playfully.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Never,” Lexa made a face.  “I can’t do it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come on! Let us get a little cinnamon and sugar from the kitchen and put a proper rim on it!” Murphy joked from behind Harper.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Really,” Lexa held her hands up and tried to regain her composure. “Thank you, but that’s not necessary.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can microplane a lil’ fresh nutmeg on the top if that’s more your highbrow speed,” Murphy chuckled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t know you didn’t like a pumpkin beer.  You drank a few at the Food &amp; Wine thing,” Clarke puzzled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“All tact.  All image. I was politely accepting hospitality.  I can do it if I must, but I never do it on purpose,” Lexa loosened her tie and got comfortable on her stool.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, well!  The big, fancy chef hates on pumpkin spice?” Octavia perked up from her paperwork.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t hate on pumpkin spice,” Lexa held her hands up.  “To each their own.  I just don’t like pumpkin beer or any of the cheesy versions of it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You too good for a little fall festivity?” Murphy smirked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s just not for me,” Lexa tried politely again. “Can I just have one of the IPAs on tap?” She looked mercifully at Harper.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not even just a little short one to celebrate the foliage?” Octavia nodded towards the windows.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, thank you,” she tried again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t know you thought pumpkin spice was so blasphemous,” Octavia smirked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t say it was blasphemous!” Lexa snapped.  They all paused.  “I’m sorry,” Lexa’s cheeks pinked.  “I just don’t like it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Pumpkins in general? Or fun of any kind?” Octavia jabbed.  “I knew you were a snob.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I fuckin’ love pumpkins!” Lexa whirled with new emotion, still high on her day of telling people what to do.  She gripped the bar to keep calm. Clarke felt want rise up in her as whispers of The Commander snuck through.  “I have pumpkin ravioli on my menu that sells out daily.  I’ve been to every pumpkin farm in the state personally to make sure I’m getting the highest quality. I make a pumpkin pie that would make your grandmother roll over in her grave.  I have revered knife skills and my jack-o-lanterns FUCK! I use power tools!”  She puffed up her chest and resisted the urge to stand up.  “I’m a damn purist and I just don’t like all the commercial pumpkin spice shit, but that’s how I feel about quite literally everything!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Woods, dude.  Calm down,” Octavia laughed.  “No one is going to make you drink the pumpkin beer.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Here’s your beer,” Harper winced and slid the pint towards Lexa.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry,” Lexa took a deep breath.  “It’s been a very, very long and trying day.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Everyone found somewhere else to be after Lexa’s rant.  Clarke leaned in and kissed Lexa’s cheek.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well,” Clarke began.  “If it’ll help you to relax, why don’t we forget the Pumpkin Spice down here and I’ll take you upstairs for everything nice?” she wagged her eyebrows.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Harper?” Lexa called, but kept her eye contact with Clarke and a smirk on her lips.  “Put whatever Clarke has on my tab and keep it open.  We’ll be back in a minute.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Probably like forty-five,” Clarke whispered as she lead Lexa upstairs.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Day 2: Witches & Wishes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clextober Week Day 2: Witches &amp; Wishes</p>
<p>Takes place in the fall in the Quality ingredients universe</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t think they were actually real witches, Commander,” Indra got out through her laughter.  “The front of house team just called them that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, they were!” Lexa said with wine-soaked vigor.  They were at Lexa’s dining room table with Clarke and Anya.  Anya and the chefs spent the afternoon working on financials for the new place.  Clarke graced them all with take out after finishing up her shift at the hospital.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Any time Indra could get Lexa going about stories from their other restaurants, Clarke did all she could to egg them on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You had two witches for line cooks?” Clarke laughed.  She loved every second of it.  Lexa was surrounded by the exact combination of her closest people and her resolve dissolved completely.  She was silly, she was loud, and she let herself have as many glasses of wine as she wanted.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They weren’t witches, Clarke,” Indra held a hand up.  “They were just goth girls.  It was 2007 and they were very extra.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No!” Lexa snapped.  “They knew what they were talking about and I swear, they cursed me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Babe, come on,” Clarke said, trying to suppress a wave of giggles that was two hours old from all of the stories piling on top of one another.  “I didn’t think you believed in any of that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Clarke,” Lexa sat back and brought a hand to her chest.  “I’ve been around the world more times than I can count.  I have seen real magic.  There is so much more out there than just us.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They all paused to try and determine if she was serious, then burst into collective laughter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay! Okay, you wanna go through it again?” Lexa’s words took on a bit of a slur.  She had lost track of how many bottles of wine they had at this point.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She has always, always believed in everything,” Anya held up a finger to pause Lexa.  “I used to scare the absolute shit out of her all the time.  It was so easy because she did most of the work convincing herself it was all true, I just had to jump out of something at a strategic time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This is all very interesting and very valuable information,” Clarke nodded thoughtfully at Anya and they clinked their glasses together.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We had that brand-new kickass range in there that was a lemon, but somehow it only worked for them and any time I touched it, it broke,” Lexa ticked off on her fingers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Commander, they came and replaced the stove and said it was a problem in the electrical and that it was a complete coincidence when it worked and when it didn’t,” Indra gave her a look.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The one with the pink hair had all that spooky jewelry that I used to make her take off before every shift because you KNOW that kind of stuff gets filthy.  She was super fussy about it, one time she HISSED at me, and one of them was like a little vial of blood!” Lexa yelped.  “What the hell is that?!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sure it was fake,” Indra doubled over.  She loved when Lexa got wound up about nothing in harmless ways.  “You could buy them at Hot Topic for a while!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They both hated me,” Lexa had wide eyes.  “Gossip on the line was that they had a voodoo doll of me.  To this day, if I get a pain out of nowhere, I still wonder if it’s her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“With the life you’ve led, you must be thinking about her a whole lot,” Anya cracked up.  “Your back problems from a life of cooking alone never mind what the drugs and booze have done to your organs.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, I’m going to be dead at sixty for sure,” Lexa gave Anya a knowing look.  Her features lit up with the lightbulb of a new idea in her head. “And it will probably be the line witch who kills me!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lex!” Clarke got out through her laughs.  “What the hell?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Clarke, have you not seen this side of her yet?” Indra’s shoulders shook with laughter as she tried to catch her breath.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Absolutely not!” Clarke cracked up again.  “Although you do never want to watch scary movies with me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think manufacturing fear is unnecessary when there’s plenty to be afraid of already,” Lexa tried to keep a straight face, then burst into a new round of laughs with all of them.  “I don’t think being scared is fun.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s because I used to torment her with them when we were little,” Anya topped off all of their glasses with the open bottle of Cab Franc on the table.  “When I was fourteen and she was twelve, she finally became an even match in a fight, so I had to ease off.  The retaliation wasn’t worth it anymore.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This is just,” Clarke shook her head and wiped her eyes.  She was crying with laughter.  “Lexa, this is incredible.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know what?” Lexa sat up straighter and poked Indra in the chest.  “I’m gonna go get the staff party photo album from my office and let these two decide what they think of the witches of The Flame kitchen!”  Lexa pushed her chair back and sarcastically dramatically stormed off to her office.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You guys,” Anya whispered and held a finger to her lips as she quietly got out of her chair and crept to the wall by the bathroom where she pressed herself behind the corner.  Clarke buried her face in her hands and tried to stop her body from shaking with laughter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay,” Lexa began.  She marched down the hall with an open photo album in her arms.  “So I kind of see the goth angle now that I’m looking at it with-“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“CURSED!” Anya jumped out just as Lexa reached the corner.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What the FUCK!” Lexa shouted.  She threw the photo album, and in her moment of terror, jumped in front of Clarke’s chair.  She swiftly grabbed one of the empty bottles of wine off the table and held it up to her assailant and had the other stretched out to protect Clarke from the scare.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You put these things on silver platters for me!” Anya clapped her hands.  Indra roared with laughter doubled over in her chair.  Clarke couldn’t breathe she was laughing so hard.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I hate you!” Lexa was laughing now too that the shock had worn off.  “You’re such a dick!” Her cheeks were red with embarrassment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lex, Jesus Christ, you’re so funny tonight!” Clarke slapped the tabletop.  Lexa rolled her eyes and set the wine bottle back on the table and fell backwards to sit on Clarke’s lap.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And can we discuss the instincts here?” Anya took her seat again and pointed at the two of them sitting together.  “Clarke, girl, she took care of you straight away there.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know,” Clarke was still trying to stop laughing and failing.  She wrapped her arms around Lexa and gave her a squeeze. “It was super hot and I’m very into it, but I can’t stop thinking of her throwing that book and that face,” Clarke pointed to the photo album on the floor.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh!” Lexa jumped up, scare gone and back to the task at hand.  She dropped the book on the table and squinted at the photos.  “Here!” She spun the book around and pointed to a photo of two young women at a bar.  The three of them leaned forward.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh Honey, no,” Clarke chuckled.  “Those aren’t witches, that’s a chemical romance at best.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What!” Lexa snapped.  “And to think I defended you with my body!” she gasped.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Day 3: Sweater Weather</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clextober week Day 3: Sweater Weather</p>
<p>Lexa gave Clarke a sweater to wear home in the early days of their relationship. She didn’t ask for it back</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She never formally gave Clarke the sweater.</p>
<p>The wearing of each other’s clothes sprung from the impromptu sleepovers and acting surprised and polite that the sleep over occurred, rather than showing up prepared with an overnight bag and assumptions.  They went out for breakfast with messy wet hair and quickly tossed on clothes from Lexa’s closet so they didn’t have to break the magic of a slow and quiet love-filled morning with practicality.</p>
<p>Clarke wore the sweater all day.  Lexa snuck peeks from behind the Blake’s Bar line at Clarke giggling with her best friend and snuggling deeper into the collar of the New Zealand wool.</p>
<p>Lexa bought the sweater in Auckland when she was wandering through New Zealand on a wine and seafood research trip.  The trip was a surprise that she tacked on after being in East Asia for a few months.  After shipping most of her things home, she found it chillier than expected and picked the sweater up on a whim from a small shop she forgot the name of.  She could remember the smile lines on the woman who made it clear as day.</p>
<p>It ended up on Clarke’s floor the night she wore it home.  The following morning, Lexa made breakfast and served it up in bed and came back to Clarke in nothing but the sweater and her glasses reading a book.</p>
<p>Maybe that’s when Lexa gave it to her.</p>
<p>It became one small detail of many that showed their lives slowly and organically intertwining. The contact case in Lexa’s bathroom.  A Houm jacket that found its way into Clarke’s laundry. A pair of Clarke’s cross trainers she wore to work were in the trunk of Lexa’s car next to a pair of AMH scrubs. Clarke’s book on the nightstand.  Lexa’s tie from the food and wine party was hanging on the back of Clarke’s bedroom door.  Lexa had scurried home in Ark Memorial scrubs and sweatshirts and not all of them made their way back to Clarke’s drawers.</p>
<p>Lexa showed up at the hospital with a surprise pasta dinner for Clarke on a late paperwork night.  Clarke looked exhausted, had been up for days, had seen a few particularly rough patients and fell thankfully into Lexa’s arms.  </p>
<p>She had the sweater on over her scrubs.</p>
<p>It popped up on a weeknight at Blake’s.  Clarke wore the sweater over a t shirt and laughed with her friends.  She had the sleeves rolled up while she played darts and ate saucy wings surrounded by her favorite people.</p>
<p>The sweater was there when they drank wine at Anya’s while Aden prepared for his date.  It moved through Clarke’s wardrobe and showed up when she was at her most comfortable and authentic.  Clarke dropped by Houm one day before dinner service with some paperwork Lexa left at home and a handful of kisses.  She had the sweater on with her errand running leggings and her biggest smile.</p>
<p>Lexa never asked for it back.</p>
<p>She didn’t need to.  She knew it would always be there if she wanted it.</p>
<p>It wasn’t hers anymore necessarily.  Maybe it wasn’t really Clarke’s either.</p>
<p>The sweater, like so many other things in Clarke and Lexa’s lives, simply became theirs.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Day 4: This shit is HAUNTED!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clextober Week Day 4: This shit is HAUNTED!</p>
<p>Aden is convinced that the basement of Houm is haunted with no help from Indra and Roan.  Lexa takes matters into her own hands.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, man!” Roan called joyfully over his shoulder from his prep station when Aden arrived for a weekday dinner shift.  He was filling in after school for one of the line cooks that had fallen ill on an October evening.    </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s up, Roan?” Aden gave him a quick high five.  “Lex said I’m yours today and that you should make use of me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You should be careful how you phrase that,” Indra smirked from her station down the line.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come on, Chef,” Roan grinned at her. “I wouldn’t make him do anything I wouldn’t do.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Appreciate it,” Aden chuckled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Morning, Bud,” Lexa came around the corner with a clipboard making notes and checking in.  He nodded his hello at her as he washed his hands and prepared for Roan’s instruction.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can you head downstairs and grab a few sheet pans?  We’re gonna start with roasting veg,” Roan nodded over his shoulder to the basement door.  Lexa caught Aden’s features scrunch up in disdain.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s the matter?” she asked.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?” he stuttered.  “Nothing. Sorry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know it’s creepy down there, man,” Roan shrugged. “But you get used to it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Houm, like most other downtown Portland restaurants, was in a very old building.  Lexa poured money into the place and renovated it inside and out, but there was only so much to be done about a basement that was over a hundred years old.  It was clean, and she kept it as such, but the walls were made of stone, the ceiling was low, and the shy electrical only did so much between the rows upon rows of tight shelves hosting back up pans, root vegetables, take out containers and other lesser used tools and appliances that didn’t have a home upstairs in the kitchen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Some of the staff thinks it’s haunted down there,” Indra gave him a playful look.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why would they say that?” Aden tried to brush it off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He felt like it was haunted from the minute Lexa bought the place years ago.  The fresh paint and cleanup crews and exterminators and renovations couldn’t remove the feeling of history that always make the little hairs on the back of his neck stand up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On his first day, Roan sent him down for something.  Aden didn’t want to admit that he ran back up the stairs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey,” Lexa snapped.  “Stop it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Urban legend says this block used to be a big part of prohibition and there was a speak easy downstairs,” Indra kept on in her storyteller’s voice.  “Lot of spilled blood over whiskey in this town back in the day.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is that true?” Aden didn’t want to sound too interested, but wanted to know what kind of ghost he might be dealing with.  Just in case.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why don’t you google it?” Indra shrugged an innocent shoulder.  Aden reached for his pocket.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No phones on the line,” Lexa said without looking up from her paperwork.  “Stop scaring him,” She flicked her glance at Indra who just chuckled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The sheet pans?” Roan offered up a sympathetic smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll be right back,” Aden sighed and carefully took the steps down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The lighting felt dimmer than usual and the shadows seemed spookier.  The footsteps and laughter in the kitchen above him felt like it was coming from corners and bootleggers past.  Feeling a little silly for being so easily scared, Aden took a breath and made his way down the row of shelves for the pans.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A rustling at the other end of the room made him gasp and jump.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s up, Aden?” It was just Emori getting quart containers.  He felt even sillier.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey,” Aden nodded at her, grabbed his pans, and hurried back upstairs under the guise of efficiency and not fear.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You hurried right back up here, huh?” Indra grinned.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, well,” Aden took a deep breath.  His heart was still pumping from Emori the fake ghost.  “Just want to be quick.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All afternoon, Indra and Roan got Aden more and more riled up about the potential ghosts in the basement, stories from employees and personal tales of how the basement had taken a hold of them.  All of it was fake, dipped in the spirit of the upcoming Halloween holiday, and Aden couldn’t figure out if they were messing with him, telling the truth, or something in between.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Just to be safe, he got in and out of the basement as fast as he could the whole shift any time Roan sent him down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey man, I need new six pans to flip this line in a few,” Roan called to Aden.  “Can you run down and grab them?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aden heaved a sigh.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey!” Lexa knocked on the pass.  “I’m sick of this shit.  Stop scaring him.  It’s unproductive and I don’t want him to trip because he’s running away from your fake ghosts!” Lexa snapped at Indra and Roan.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Heard, Chef,” They both scowled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Aden,” Lexa stabbed a ticket and handed a plate to one of the servers.  “The basement isn’t haunted no matter what these two assholes tell you, alright?” She gave him a warm smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know that,” Aden said indignantly and left the line for the basement.  He exhaled with relief when he was out of their sight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You two,” Lexa caught their glance through the pass.  “Thanks for laying some excellent groundwork.  I’m gonna get him so good,” she added quietly with a smirk.  They both chuckled lightly and got back to work.  “A few more tickets here and we should be in pretty good shape.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The remainder of dinner service was uneventful and smooth.  Lincoln ducked his head into the kitchen to let Lexa know that Clarke and Anya were at the bar.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Good evening, ladies,” Lexa said to Anya and Clarke as service wound down for the evening later that night.  The two of them were having a glass of wine while waiting for their son and girlfriend respectively to be finished for the night.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi!” Clarke grinned at her.  “How’s your night been?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Pretty steady, very routine,” Lexa replied. “I just have a few more things to take care of and I should be through for the night.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Excellent,” Clarke smiled warmly.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m going to get back to it, but I wanted to come out and say hi,” Lexa said before making her way back to the kitchen where Aden arrived back at the line with Roan’s pans.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did the ghosts hide the lids to these from you or what?” Roan joked.  Aden’s shoulders dipped in defeat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry.  I’ll be right back,” he sighed and about faced.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“As will I,” Lexa said lowly to Indra and Roan before walking out the back door and unlocking the basement bulkhead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Aden, shaking off Roan’s mention of ghosts, hurried to the shelves with the lids.  Just as he put his hands on them, the basement lights cut out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What the fuck,” he whispered in the dark.  The lights flicked back on.  He chalked it up to old electricity and went about his work.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The lights cut again and someone whispered his name.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stood bolt upright and looked around in a panic.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Another flicker of the lights.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The metal lids clattered as Aden shuffled them into his arms as quickly as possible.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The whispering of his name sounded closer this time.  He was soaked with sweat and could hear his heartbeat thundering in his ears.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He took a deep breath and turned around slowly before quickly making his way back to the stairs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“BOO!” Lexa shouted and jumped from behind the last shelf at him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Jesus Fucking Christ!” Aden cried.  He dropped the lids and covered his face only to be brought back down from his panic by Lexa’s roaring laughter.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh my god!” she got out between hysterics.  “Your face!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“God damnit, Lexa!” He snapped.  After a few breaths he stooped to gather the fallen lids.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry, Bud,” Lexa tried to calm her laughs.  “I couldn’t help myself.  Let me give you a hand.”  She helped him gather what he needed and was still laughing when they returned to the line.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s the matter, Aden?” Roan couldn’t fight the smirk.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Looks like you’ve just seen a ghost!” Indra snickered from the grill.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Very funny, you guys,” Aden, more embarrassed than mad, handed over the lids to Roan.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re good for the night, kid,” Roan chuckled.  “I’ll clean up tonight.  Thanks for all your help today.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I have to give you credit,” Aden turned to Lexa.  “Nice touch telling them to knock it off.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I do what I can,” Lexa shrugged playfully.  “Your mom’s at the bar with Clarke waiting for you.” She walked him out to the dining room and his shock hadn’t fully worn off yet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Aden, are you alright?” Anya asked when she saw his miserable look.  “You’re so sweaty! Are you getting sick?” She put a motherly hand to his forehead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lexa just scared the living shit out of me,” he muttered.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lex!” Clarke snapped.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Aden!” Anya huffed at him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Indra and Roan convinced him the basement was haunted,” Lexa giggled.  “I got him so good.  I wish I recorded it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nice,” Anya shared a conspiratorial smile with Lexa.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mom!” Aden yelped.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry, bud,” Lexa pat him on the back.  “You have inherited your mother’s scare debt to me.  That’s the last one at work though,” she smiled a littler warmer.  Aden just looked at her.  “Or is it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fantastic,” he sighed.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Day 5: Creatures of the Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clextober Week Day 5: Creatures of the Night</p>
<p>Clarke is up all night at the hospital and has had it with all of the questions about her famous new girlfriend.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Clarke stepped out of the shower in the locker room of the hospital around two in the morning.  She stood in the stream of hot water a little longer than necessary.  Her last surgery was rough.  Car accident victim whose husband and three young children waited patiently for the results in cold hospital chairs all night.  Their faces when the news that she may never walk again was delivered would be with Clarke for a while.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>October was drawing to a close and it was chilly on the top floor by her favorite window.  She tugged Lexa’s cardigan a little tighter over her scrubs.  She forgot it was in her locker and was delighted to find it when she got dressed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The quiet lights of the city were just as great a view as the ocean and the harbor she took in by day.  It was a clear night and she could see the light houses and the red and green channel markers flashing gently in the distance.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shoot,” Clarke sighed as a few drips of her coffee escaped and landed on her sweater.  There was a Bolognese stain from one of Lexa’s dinner deliveries already there.  She shrugged it off and watched the breeze run through the trees.  A lot of the leaves had fallen.  Just the stragglers were left to dance on the wind.  Maybe they were the strong instead.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Clarke tried not to think about the mother on her table that would never be the same again.  She pulled her phone out to catch up on messages and emails to distract herself before taking to the stack of paperwork next to her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>‘I hope you’re able to get some rest tonight.  I can’t wait to see you when you get home,’ came in from Lexa around eleven that evening.   Clarke smiled at the screen and wished she was snuggled up with Lexa’s arms around her in bed, rather than settling for her sweater wrapped around her in a cold window seat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>‘Not likely.  Rough night tonight.  Miss you and can’t wait to see you,’ Clarke sent back.  Lexa swore up and down that late night texts wouldn’t wake her, so Clarke started responding regardless of the hour.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The seriousness of their relationship snuck up on both of them.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hadn’t planned to fall so hard for Lexa, but there was nothing that was going to get in her way now. Clarke had never known that kind of attraction.  She had to have her, had to be near her.  It wasn’t strictly sexual.  She wanted to listen to Lexa talk.  She wanted to make her laugh, to hear stories, to talk about food and plans and places Lexa had been.  Clarke wanted to walk her fingertips over every inch of Lexa’s body, but she also wanted to see her smile every time Clarke said her name.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>‘Everything okay?’ popped up on her phone.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, Dr. G,” Miller approached.  “You’re looking smiley considering what we just did.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi,” Clarke gave him a tired smile.  “Just catching up on some texts.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let me guess,” Miller smirked as he lowered himself to take a seat in the other end of the window.  “The lovely and talented Chef Woods?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You are correct,” Clarke nodded.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Clarke hadn’t been dating for a while, partially by choice and partially by circumstance.  Now that she was dating again, and accidentally dating someone famous, the attention was overwhelming.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Her front desk fan club was trying to get me to talk,” Miller chuckled.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can’t handle all of that,” Clarke sighed.  She resisted looking Lexa up.  It wasn’t hard.  She enjoyed getting to know her genuinely and getting to know who she really was.  The Food &amp; Wine party and subsequent social media storm opened Clarke’s eyes up to exactly the level of fame Clarke was dealing with, but the constant questions from work friends was starting to drive her nuts.  “They were on my case about whether or not those are her real teeth this afternoon.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are they?” Milled asked absentmindedly as he dug into a cup of yogurt.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes!” Clarke snapped.  “That is also her natural hair color, she does some yoga to manage her stress but her physique is mostly genetics, I am not aware of her net worth but I’m pretty sure it’s one of those numbers that’s so high we can’t really comprehend it without a visual aid, and no, she doesn’t wear contacts.  Her eyes really are that green.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was so sick of the shallow questions.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lexa was so much more than her looks and her money.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What no one wants to know about is that she’s interesting, and she’s smart, and she’s funny, and she’s kind, and she’s thoughtful and she takes care of her family, and she loves every single employee she has and knows about their lives,” Clarke huffed.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She paused to send back ‘Tough night in the OR.  Emotional. Just hungry and tired and crabby and wishing I was snuggled in bed with you.  Staring down a bunch of paperwork.  What are you doing awake at this hour?’</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They just care what celebrities she knows and if she actually fucked Scarlett Johansson and Megan Fox when she was living in LA or if those are just rumors!” Clarke sighed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Miller opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And before you ask, I have no idea, but she probably did,” Clarke muttered and fixed her gaze on the street lights.  Most of the homes were dark.  She briefly thought about all of the people tucked in their beds living normal nine to fives and sleeping all night and then getting up for breakfast like regular people.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hadn’t had that schedule since she was in high school.  She probably wouldn’t again until she retired.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>‘Also doing a bunch of paperwork. Schedule’s been crazy lately.  Wishing I was in bed with you, too,’ showed up from Lexa.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well,” Miller dragged it out slowly and shifted his tone.  “Tell me all about her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You all already know about her.  You looked it up,” Clarke rolled her eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s her closet like?” Miller quirked a brow.  Clarke smirked in defeat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s phenomenal,” she said after a pause.  She was instantly transported to the morning they had sex on the floor of Lexa’s closet that lead to her picking out the sweater she had on.  Lexa had a rug burn on her ass for a few days afterwards.  “It looks like a store.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What does she like to eat for breakfast?” Miller asked.  Clarke appreciated his attempts to put her at ease.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Me,” she said smugly just as he brought his coffee to his lips.  Miller spit it out with laughter into the trash can beside them.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And that, Dr. Griffin, is why I love you,” He chuckled and wiped his face.  “Good lord.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come on, you just left it sitting there,” Clarke chuckled as she picked up her phone to respond.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>‘I wonder what’s been taking up so much of your time these days??’ she sent off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“All kidding aside,” Miller’s giggles died down to a genuine smile.  “You seem really happy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I AM really happy!” Clarke replied strongly.  “And no one wants to talk about that.  They just want to know what seasons of Top Chef and Chopped she’s on.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fox went down an Instagram rabbit hole after the Food &amp; Wine thing you guys went to.  I humored her cause I love celebrity gossip as much as she does, but the way Lexa looks at you?” He paused for a sip of coffee without laughter.  “It’s awesome.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thanks, Miller,” She grinned at him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, we all know she’s a suave millionaire.  What’s she really like?” He encouraged Clarke to go on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s brilliant,” Clarke’s eyes drifted towards the bridge all lit up.  “She believes in herself with this intensity that I have never seen.  I don’t know if it’s confidence or something else, but she’s just,” Clarke sighed.  “She’s just such a FORCE.  Being in her presence is truly incredible.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Damn,” Miller nodded.  “I was expecting something like she does crossword puzzles and wears bunny slippers, but shit.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She does do crossword puzzles sometimes, and she actually gets a physical newspaper delivered every day and reads it, but her slippers are just those LL Bean ones that everyone from Maine has,” Clarke said quickly.  “And I know that sounds so dramatic, but it’s true.  There’s something just so special about her, and I don’t think a lot of people know about it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Looks like you’re pretty lucky then,” Miller raised a brow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I really am,” Clarke couldn’t contain her grin.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>‘Just been moving my schedule around to accommodate new things that matter more,’ Lexa replied.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I really, really am,” Clarke pulled her pile of paperwork closer.  Miller took it as a cue that the conversation was closed and did the same with his.  They both worked silently together for about a half hour before Clarke’s pager went off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nothing on mine,” he said after glancing at his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Clarke’s just read HOT FOOD.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll be back,” she smiled shyly and headed for the elevator.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When the doors opened, Lexa was in the lobby.  She had jeans on and her leather jacket with her hair was tucked messily under a beanie.  She had two Tupperware containers in her hands and a giant grin on her face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi,” Lexa said smoothly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What are you doing here,” Clarke couldn’t help herself from wrapping Lexa into the warmest, softest embrace.  She planted a kiss on Lexa’s cheek and snuggled briefly into the crook of her neck.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I just finished up my work and I was in the mood for a late night snack, so I brought you some fried chicken and biscuits,” Lexa replied.  “I was recipe testing some stuff Octavia and I were workshopping earlier tonight.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lex, it’s almost four in the morning,” Clarke furrowed her brow.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The hustle waits for no one, Clarke,” Lexa half smiled.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You really didn’t need to come down here,” Clarke leaned deeper into the hug.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I knew you were awake. I was awake. You had a tough night and I had the time and the food.  It’s not even a discussion,” Lexa waved a hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t expect you to be up,” Clarke smiled as Lexa kissed her forehead.  “I almost didn’t text you back, but I’m glad I did.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I guess we’re just creatures of the night, you and I,” Lexa’s half smile itched into a loving grin.  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Day 6: Trick or Treat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Day 2: Trick or treat</p>
<p>Clarke and Lexa have a super fun time at the Blake’s Bar Halloween party full of the treat of getting as drunk as they want, followed by the trick of getting up the stairs and out of their costumes.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lexa was covered in glitter before they made it upstairs.</p>
<p>Clarke’s mermaid costume was excellent in theory, and even better in photographs, but it was a nightmare in practice.  She had a long, tight sparkly green skirt on that made it impossible to take a wide step.  Her sequined shell bra top was sexy, but she had reinforced it with extra clasps and double side tape in various places to ensure it stayed exactly where it belonged.  While her big curls and excessive make up were driving Lexa wild, they were also getting tangled on the hundreds of necklaces and bracelets Lexa had on.</p>
<p>Lexa’s pirate costume was no walk in the park to navigate either.  She had extra belts on and sashes and although she looked spectacular at the party, the practicality of having on almost every single piece of jewelry Clarke owned, a last-minute decision to add to the hefty amount Lexa put on to start, was proving a logistical challenge.  The sword at her hip wasn’t doing them any favors.</p>
<p>Especially now that they were shitfaced.</p>
<p>Knowing they had the time to let loose, Clarke and Lexa got swept up in Lincoln and Raven’s dance floor.  The ghost of Lexa’s party past crept out as she ordered more shots and drinks and her voice grew hoarse and loud while they danced and laughed.  Lexa stopped caring about propriety and posed for photos with anyone who asked, let her hands roam across Clarke on a crowded dance floor, showered Harper in excessive tips and at one point, bought a round of tequila shots for everyone in the bar.</p>
<p>Before last call, the two of them slipped through the thick crowd of party goers to the back stairwell.  Clarke kicked the door shut, flipped the lock, grabbed Lexa by two of the belts buckled diagonally across her chest and slammed her into the wall.</p>
<p>“I don’t care how annoying all of this jewelry is or that your stupid sword handle has been poking me in the stomach all night.  You look hot as fuck with all that pirate make up on,” Clarke growled before attacking Lexa’s lips.</p>
<p>They were both totally drunk, and it was so fun.</p>
<p>They had been wine drunk and beer buzzed and silly and sweet, but the two of them were yet to experience the other full of shots and booze and good old-fashioned no holds bar party wasted.</p>
<p>Lexa gave her a silly smile and dramatically drew her sword and tossed it aside, never breaking Clarke’s eye contact.  The resulting head back, zero inhibitions, drunk belly laugh that Clarke let out as a result made Lexa grab her by the bare waist and pull her close.</p>
<p>“Oh, shit,” Lexa muttered.  She looked down at her hands.</p>
<p>Now that Clarke was soaked in sweat from the dance floor, Lexa’s palms were covered in glitter.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it.  It’s non-toxic,” Clarke said quickly and practically before devouring Lexa’s mouth again.  </p>
<p>Lexa got lost in this version of Clarke.  She was messy and sexy and raw and excellent.</p>
<p>“Let’s go upstairs,” Clarke held onto the front of Lexa’s shirt and tried to get up the stairs but tripped and fell.</p>
<p>“Shit! Clarke! Are you okay?” Lexa tried to help her up, wavered on her own drunk feet and Clarke yanked her down with her, laughing all the while.</p>
<p>“Hang on, I’m sorry.  I’m pretty fuckin’ drunk it turns out?” Clarke shrugged.  Lexa burst out laughing.  “Alright. Hang on. I got this,” Clarke reached down and took her shoes off and carelessly let them fall where they may on the steps.  “Help me up.  You have pants on.”</p>
<p>Lexa pulled herself to her feet.  She couldn’t stop giggling.  They were having so much fun.</p>
<p>“I got you,” Lexa grinned as she took Clarke’s hands and pulled her to her feet.  Clarke reached down to where the slit in her skirt ended around her knees.  Grabbing either side of the sparkly fabric in her hands, Clarke unceremoniously ripped the slit up to her hip.</p>
<p>“Holy shit,” Lexa whispered before taking Clarke back in her arms for more involuntary, passionate, drunk kisses.  Clarke took pleasure in getting lost in them before remembering they had a task.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Clarke snuck out between a few kisses as she equal parts pulled Lexa closer and pushed her away. “Come on! Let’s get out of here,” Clarke picked up the handful of half-full beer bottles around their feet.  Lexa chased after her as they laughed and stumbled up into Clarke’s apartment.  Clarke pounded the remainder of one of the bottles and set it on the coffee table before embracing Lexa again for more kisses that tasted like cheap beer.  She fell against the wall outside of her bedroom door and Lexa leaned hard into her.</p>
<p>She left two glitter handprints on the wall on either side of Clarke.</p>
<p>“I want you to rip my clothes off, but I want you to do it carefully because a lot of them are taped on,” Clarke said with seriousness as she dragged Lexa into her bedroom.</p>
<p>“I am wearing my weight in costume jewelry,” Lexa laughed as she started pulling bangles off her wrists and dropping them on Clarke’s dresser.  Fake pearls landed on the floor as Lexa stumbled to the side.</p>
<p>“How many belts do you have on?!” Clarke giggled as she unbuckled the belts across Lexa’s chest.  Lexa couldn’t help herself and left open mouth kisses all over Clarke’s neck.</p>
<p>“I don’t fucking know, Babe,” Lexa muttered and tried to wipe the glitter off her tongue.  Her hands found their way to the back of Clarke’s top and paused at the extra clasps.  She found some of the tape.  “How the fuck did you even get into this costume?!”</p>
<p>“Raven helped,” Clarke sighed with a playful eyeroll.  “I know it’s gonna be a hell of a trick to get me out of it, but I promise there’s an excellent treat in it for you when you do.”</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Day 7: Free Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Clarke and Lexa have a nice fall afternoon together and Lexa muses on how her time with Clarke makes her feel.</p>
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  <p>“Psst,” Anya whispered at Lexa and nodded her head at Clarke beside her. The three of them were sitting in the booth that had Lexa’s Food &amp; Wine plaque still on the wall at Blake’s on a Sunday evening.</p>
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  <p>Lexa picked Clarke up from the hospital that morning after a few very long days.  Clarke swore up and down that despite an eventful shift she was game for a date that afternoon, so they hit the town.  </p>
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  <p>It was an absolutely perfect autumn day.  They wandered on foot through the Old Port and stopped into a bunch of places where Lexa was well known and given the royal treatment much to her chagrin.  There were cocktails and bites of food and all kinds of treats sent out everywhere they went.  There was also doting over Lexa at every turn, which she was apprehensive about showing to Clarke who didn’t seem to know the extent of Lexa’s fame.</p>
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  <p>Lexa couldn’t remember the last time someone had zero preemptive thoughts about who she was.</p>
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  <p>Clarke loved it all, and she made it feel special again to be renowned.  Lexa introduced her to all of her favorite bartenders and some of the chefs who ducked out of the kitchen to say hello.  Every time, Clarke had them laughing and smiling.  She was so personable and never let who Lexa was change her behavior.</p>
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  <p>The more they got to know one another, the more Lexa realized that Clarke’s confidence and charm was no act.  Clarke was rock solid all the time, and it was the most refreshing, phenomenal feeling to be able to exhale and be her real, honest self with a smart, talented, interesting, attractive woman who expected nothing in return other than honesty and respect.</p>
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  <p>Lexa paused when they were sitting at the bar of a Middle Eastern spot eating a lamb special and drinking perfect daquiris made by a witty guy she knew casually to take in just how easy it was to spend time with Clarke.</p>
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  <p>On that particular Sunday, Clarke’s curls were yanked back into a messy ponytail.  She had her glasses on and a big scarf over a sweater.  She had asked the bartender about a scar he had on his wrist, clearly from a surgery, and the two off them went down a long road of an exciting discussion about the plate he had in his arm and his leg from a mountain biking accident when he was younger.  Clarke talked about work in laymen’s terms and never made anyone feel small while simultaneously showing off how smart she was.</p>
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  <p>All the while she had a coupe of toasted coconut and pineapple daquiri in one hand and the bone of a lamb lollipop in the other.  Her silverware remained untouched.</p>
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  <p>Lexa was having a hard time putting into words exactly how impactful it was to not have to talk about herself. To not be expected to curate the conversation and explain all the parts of it that her date didn’t understand. What always began as piqued curiosity at who the alluring woman on the barstool beside the well-known chef was ended up in genuine conversation about local music, emergency room myths debunked, favorite spots to eat and Clarke encouraging whoever they were with to tell her all about themselves.</p>
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  <p>It was brand new, and it was remarkable.</p>
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  <p>“Looks like someone had a long day,” Anya whispered and nodded at Clarke again.</p>
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  <p>The three of them had caught up and gossiped, then took to their solitary activities together.  Lexa answered emails on her phone while Anya worked through her schedule and to do lists for the week ahead.  Clarke had a book out on the table but was now slumped in the booth with her head on Lexa’s shoulder.</p>
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  <p>She was fast asleep.</p>
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  <p>“We hit it a little hard this afternoon,” Lexa chuckled quietly.  She shifted carefully so as not to disturb Clarke as she settled her arm around her.  “It was such an awesome day out that we couldn’t help it.  The sun was warm and the leaves are just perfect right now.  I don’t think she slept last night.”</p>
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  <p>“I don’t know how she does it,” Anya shook her head.  </p>
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  <p>“She’s pretty incredible,” Lexa grinned before putting a soft kiss in Clarke’s hair.</p>
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  <p>“You seem different today,” Anya said thoughtfully after a few beats.  “I can’t put my finger on it.”</p>
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  <p>“Honestly?” Lexa let the day wash through her mind as she tried to find the words for it.  “It sounds silly, but for the first time, I finally feel like I can just be myself.”  Lexa took a sip of her beer and smiled down at Clarke again.  “Like I get to figure out what that even means.  She has no expectations, no preconceived ideas of who I am, she just,” Lexa trailed off and twisted the ends of Clarke’s curls between her index finger and thumb.  “She just likes me and that’s it.”</p>
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  <p>“Sounds delightful,” Anya’s grin bloomed into a warm and genuine smile full of pride and love.</p>
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  <p>“It is,” Lexa’s cheeks flushed.  “I feel really free for the first time.”</p>
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